


Honeyed

by calismash



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: And Damen Likes It, Canon Era, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Laurent Steps on Damen, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, That's all you really need to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calismash/pseuds/calismash
Summary: "It seems you really are just a brute," Laurent adds, voice a shade lower, a touch more dulcet. "Only good for fighting. Can't even fuck properly."





	Honeyed

It's the middle of the night when Damen is unceremoniously taken from his gilded cage. They shove him down winding hallways, only stopping when they reach the pair of large double doors that lead into Laurent's rooms. He's brought inside and chained to a metal ring in the floor, leashed like a dog; the chain length from his collar to the ground gives him just enough leeway to kneel. Next, his arms are yanked behind his back, wrist cuffs chained together. Orlant sends him one last disgusted look before turning on his heel and leaving with Jord to stand guard outside.

Then he's alone with Laurent.

The Prince of Vere is still carefully laced up, sitting at the foot of his four poster bed with one long leg crossed over the other. In the soft glow of candlelight, he looks ethereal, gold and ivory, cold to the touch; he looks as indifferent as he had earlier instructing Ancel to suck Damen's cock.

Damen hates that he wants him, wants to slap that frigid look off his face then fist all that pretty gold hair and put that mouth to better use. Laurent would look good that way, lips wrapped around a thick cock, Damen's hand on the back of his head, making sure he keeps it in his throat and swallows like good boys do.

When it seems that Laurent is content to simply watch him with pellucid blue eyes, Damen finally breaks the silence.

"Did you just bring me here to look at me?"

A slow smile spreads across Laurent's lips. It's not a nice smile. It's as insincere and reptilian as the rest of him.

"Did you enjoy that earlier?"

"Did you enjoy watching?" Damen snaps back. Laurent continues as if he hadn't even heard him, and it infuriates Damen.

"—Or would you have preferred that meek Akielon slave, the blond one, to suck your cock instead?"

Damen feels a shiver go down his spine as he watches Laurent's lips shape the word 'cock'. A face like that, shaped by gods’ hands themselves, shouldn't be able to talk the way Laurent does. Mentally shaking himself from distraction, Damen feels something fiercely protective well up inside him at the mention of Erasmus, at the thought of how the Veretians are mistreating him.

"Don't talk about—"

"Why not?" Laurent's voice is like the crack of a whip. "Would it be any different in Akielos?" He cocks his head ever so slightly and seems genuinely curious if not coldly detached. But there's something in his eyes, a banked fire, that hints at something more personal belying his words. "It's not like slaves have a choice in whose cock they suck."

Damen feels as if he's been slapped across the face. After all, slaves _choose_ perfect submission in exchange for perfect treatment _—_ but did they have any say in who their masters were? Damen can't be sure. Slave matters are— _were—_ beneath him back in Ios.

"Yes," Laurent says when he seems to find what he’s looking for in Damen's face. He moves to stand before him, just far away enough that when Damen jolts forward as if to attack the chain connected to his collar goes taut centimeters before he can reach Laurent. The Prince doesn't even flinch, and Damen’s anger mounts. Then Laurent surprises him by stepping even closer and catching Damen's chin with a latent strength he hadn't expected from pretty, golden Laurent. Slender fingers dig into Damen’s cheeks and jaw hard enough to bruise. "That’s right. They don’t have a choice, and neither do you. You should suffer as much as any of them, _slave_."

"I'm not a—" The word 'slave' dies in Damen's throat as the toe of Laurent's shiny black boot steps down hard on his crotch. It rests there atop Damen's bare cock, a steady pressure that brings Damen to heel embarrassingly fast.

"No?" Laurent says, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Even though you're chained and kneeling at my pleasure?" Laurent presses down more forcefully, edging on pain, and Damen's arms strain where they're cuffed behind his back, biceps bulging with the effort. Laurent sweeps his eyes up and down Damen's naked body, gaze lingering on the golden clamps pinching both of his dark nipples, a thin chain connecting them. "You look like a whore," he says.

He slides one hand into Damen's hair, curls his fingers into the soft strands there. It's only Laurent's boot situated threateningly between his thighs that keeps him from lashing out as Laurent presses forward until the laced front of his breaches are poised right in front of Damen’s mouth, close enough that he can smell Laurent—leather, soap, and something like heat. "Go on." A wry smile curls Laurent's lips as he stares down at Damen with cold eyes. "The Akielon bastard sent you here, so you must be good for something."

Damen would ask, what, exactly, he can do with his arms bound behind his back, but he has a fair idea of what the viper wants. Instead of arguing and potentially having his testicles crushed, he leans forward and catches one of the laces between his teeth, tugging. It's an exercise in futility, and Damen's jaw aches by the time he finally gives up, breathing hard as the hand in his hair turns cruel, yanking at the roots until it stings.

"Can't you do anything right?" Laurent asks, and Damen unwillingly feels an embarrassed flush spread across his face and down his neck. "It seems you really are just a brute," Laurent adds, voice a shade lower, a touch more dulcet. "Only good for fighting. Can't even fuck properly."

"And you can do better?" Damen replies, staring up at Laurent in defiance. "Then again, with a face like that, I wouldn't be surprised if you excel in taking cock."

Laurent's face contorts into something full of hatred. It might be the only expression capable of making Laurent look ugly. Damen briefly revels in the victory before Laurent grinds the toe of his boot down against Damen's cock until a shout is wrenched from his throat. Pain sparks through him, bright and hot, and he tries to jerk away, but, between the chains and Laurent's grip, there's no place to run.

"You don't know anything," Laurent snarls. He reaches between them with his free hand and rips open the front of his breaches. Damen isn't quite prepared for the cock that greets him, hard and flushed and a little wet at the head. He can't help the way his body reacts to the fact that Laurent has not been wearing anything underneath, possibly since the very first night he'd stridden into Damen's life and become the bane of his existence.

Laurent takes a deep breath as if to steady himself before yanking Damen's head forward by the hair. "Bite me and see what happens," he says, face back to its usual frigid countenance as he adjusts the pressure on Damen's crotch to something more pleasant. Still, there is a flush high on his cheeks that his fair complexion cannot hide.

It's not Damen's first time sucking cock, but he's never done it quite like this. He's never been the one on his knees, the one toyed with, used for another's pleasure. Still, it does nothing to stop his cock from swelling beneath Laurent's boot as he cradles the head on his tongue, tastes the familiar salty musk. He tells himself his arousal is logical, triggered by good memories of nights spent with many a pliant slave. The heat of it, the smell, is all so familiar that Damen is helpless to stop the way his mouth waters for more.

Laurent doesn't make a sound even as Damen takes more of him into his mouth. He closes his eyes, trying to pretend that he's back in Akielos with a pretty slave. It's pointless. A slave would never be so controlled, so quiet, so still. They would never be dressed either, and each rustle of Laurent's clothing reminds Damen whose cock is in his mouth. So Damen decides to take revenge another way. He decides to make it _good_.

He starts slow, licking his way around the head, teasing his tongue deliberately into the leaking slit. He hears the slightest exhalation of breath when he does that, so he continues that way, sucking until his cheeks hollow. Truthfully Damen has never done more than tease: a couple languid licks, a few lazy sucks and kisses, were usually enough to have slaves begging and squirming and spreading their legs. Laurent scarcely trembles.

Damen resents the fact that he can’t use his hands, mouth clumsy as he licks up the underside. “Not bad,” Laurent says in a way that implies Damen’s cocksucking barely passes muster, as if _he_ , the most frigid bitch in four kingdoms, would know. “You were a soldier, weren’t you? Did your commanders have you on your knees like this? Did they take turns with you? You must be used to this by now.”

Damen makes as if to jerk back, the words bringing his blood to an enraged boil, but Laurent anticipates this. He hooks his fingers into the thick golden collar encircling Damen’s neck and yanks him forward, forcing his cock deeper until Damen chokes on it. Tears gather in the corners of Damen’s eyes, wetting his lashes, while his throat convulses helplessly around Laurent’s cock. The Prince moans like he can’t help himself, and the sound goes directly between Damen’s legs. He shifts his weight awkwardly, nearly displacing the boot Laurent has situated in his lap. Laurent lets out a breathy laugh. “I knew it.” He grinds the toe of his boot against the hard ridge of Damen’s cock, shuddering when the moan Damen can’t stifle vibrates around him. “You really are a beast,” he says, but he’s panting audibly now, rocking his hips the slightest bit as if, more than anything, he wants to fuck Damen’s face. “A slave to your own cock.”

Damen focuses on breathing through his nose, eyes fixed angrily on Laurent, a few stray tears making tracks down his face. He watches Laurent tip his head back, golden eyelashes fluttering, a tempting red flush disappearing beneath the high collar of his brocade jacket. Damen hates him, but his cock doesn’t seem to care. Laurent is so incredibly gorgeous, and, if rumor is to be believed, Damen might be the only man alive who’s seen this side of him.

Laurent begins to fuck Damen’s throat steadily, one hand curled into his collar, the other painfully tight in his hair. The Prince seems like he’s barely holding onto control, close already, helpless as a virgin to the pleasure building low in his belly. Damen swallows greedily around his cock, just wanting it to be over, and Laurent’s legs shake, hips jerking forward. He makes a desperate sound that might’ve been funny if it wasn’t so hot.

“Just look at you.” Laurent’s hazy blue eyes fix on Damen’s face, on the saliva now slicking his chin and the way his adam’s apple works as he swallows Laurent down. “You must be the most wanton whore in all of Akielos,” he says. It almost sounds like a compliment, what with the way Laurent is falling apart for him. Damen bobs his head furiously, jaw aching something fierce, and Laurent’s hand tightens in his hair, guiding his mouth up and down as he lets out a choked whimper. His eyes roll back for a second like he’s never had it this good.

Damen can’t help but feel smug as he watches from beneath dark, curling lashes, moving his head even faster, forcing Laurent to the edge despite the way he clings to control. Laurent’s less guiding him as he is clinging to him now, the hand at his collar falling to grip his shoulder instead. It’s a strong grip, bruising, and Damen can’t help the way his blood rushes at the memory of the sleek muscles Laurent hides beneath all those laces. Damen’s cock is throbbing now, heavy and swollen between his legs, nearly painful with how aroused he is. Laurent keeps making these tiny stifled noises above him that are driving him wild, and Damen doesn’t bother closing his eyes and trying to pretend he's somewhere else. He wants to see Laurent’s face when he cums.

“W-wait,” Laurent breathes, nails digging painfully into Damen’s skin, close enough to one of the scars on his back that a shiver of panic goes through him. Laurent is biting his lower lip hard, eyes shut and face set into something stubborn, like he doesn’t _want_ to cum. “ _Oh god_ …” It’s the closest to loud Laurent’s been all night and it finally snaps the last of Damen’s self-control. His hips jerk, and he groans low in his throat as he starts to cum, rutting up against Laurent’s boot like a dog. When he comes back to himself Laurent’s eyes are open and staring down at him, glazed and dark in a way Damen’s never seen them before, pupils nearly blacking out the blue. Laurent’s boot is splattered white and his hips piston back and forth, fucking Damen’s mouth relentlessly. Damen just kneels there and takes it, the afterglow of his orgasm leaving him too dazed to do anything else.

He watches with lidded eyes as Laurent cums, pressing his hips forward until Damen’s nose is crushed against his pelvis while he spurts directly down Damen’s throat, gasping like he might die from the pleasure. His fingers twist painfully in Damen’s hair, keeping him still as he rolls his hips a few more times before pulling out, too sensitive for more. Damen coughs, cum leaking from the corner of his mouth, and Laurent, still catching his breath, sweeps two fingers through the mess and shoves them right back between Damen’s lips.

Laurent watches as his fingers slide over Damen’s tongue before he finally steps back, tucking himself into his pants. Within moments he’s back to being the frigid, indomitable prince of Vere.

Laurent claps his hands and the doors to his room open. Orlant and Jord step inside. Jord’s expression is stoic, but Orlant has a salacious grin on his face that he doesn’t bother hiding. Damen feels a rush of mortification at the reminder that they’ve been standing outside the entire time,  _listening_.

“Clean him up and take him back to his rooms,” Laurent orders.

After that, Damen doesn’t see him again until he begs Radel for an audience with the Prince.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~this was difficult and i'm never writing smut again.~~ kudos and comments pls because i did my best.


End file.
